Page 55 of Isolation
The kind of laughter I haven’t let out in years.
The kind that has tears leaking out of my eyes.
The last time Milo did an over the top gesture, it was… well, overwhelming. Goofy gestures are more my speed.
This really wasn’t that funny, but he knew that I’d find this funny. I always called Milo “bougie.” Boxed wine is definitely not his style, but humor is mine.
“It wasn’t that funny,” he defends his gesture when my laughter has still not subsided.
I hold on to my stomach and grin. A dork exists under the cool godlike CEO surface. I can’t help but look at that dork with… affection. Tender affection.
I feel nostalgic. I am looking at the playful goofy man I grew up with, the one I have been seeing more and more of lately.
There is something else too. I can’t put my finger to it, but something is different with him today than it was yesterday. It’s hard to explain.
We sit down on the jacket that Milo laid out. I start unwrapping the sandwiches while Milo twists off the cap to the miniature boxed wine.
“Okay, stop.” I hold up a hand. “I lived in Paris for four years. This is considered a disgrace to my cultural immersion experience. You have made your point and you have made me laugh. Can we please be adults now and drink actual fucking wine instead of piss?”
Milo still pours the wine with a grin. The tiny box is only enough to fill the two disposable cups he brought along. Reaching into the bag, he also pulls out two water bottles.
“Piss?” he passes me one of the bottles. “Your lady-like vocabulary precedes you.”
“Piss. Cocksucker. Fucker. Motherfucker. Cunt.” I count off curse words with my fingers.
“Classy, Rave,” he sneers. “We need soap to wash out your potty mouth.”
“That’s not even the worst of it.”
“I am almost scared to ask,” he leans in curiously. “What’s the worst of it?”
“Moist,” I shrug without a trace of humor.
Milo chokes on his sandwich and I grin cockily, feeling satisfied with my delivery.
“How the hell is that the worst word? Explain!”
“Ask any woman. Moist is the worst word in the English dictionary. Women cringe when they hear it. Hence, moist. The most offensive word and the worst of them all.”
Milo bursts out laughing.
Loud, hearty laughter.
I. Fucking. Missed. This.
I. Fucking. Missed. Us.
I missed our laughs. Our teasing. I missed all of it.
I return my attention back to my sandwich. I am sure Milo brought me here for more than a gag date. If he insisted on getting me out of the house, it’s likely that he wants to have a talk.
Appropriate social measures, before embarking on awkward conversations, suggest small talk while dancing around the bigger issue at hand. So.... “I realized that I know very little about your company. Tell me about it.”
Milo decides to humor me and dives into the nitty-gritty of his company. He even explains the most mundane aspects of his job with enthusiasm.
“You work a lot,” I state the most obvious observation.
“It comes with the territory of owning your own business. Plus, the numbers don’t lie. The more I work and the more I promote the app, the better our profit margins are.”
